


Out of the Shadows

by IdrisTardis7878



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, It's pretty tame, but i still have a soft spot for it, first and forever otp, just a hint or two of shenanigans, otp: romione, the m rating is really not that m, this was written so long ago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 15:23:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16997547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdrisTardis7878/pseuds/IdrisTardis7878
Summary: Hermione and Ron travel to Australia to retrieve Hermione's parents. During a very difficult search, they learn that sometimes, the best way to find something is not to look quite so hard. And sometimes, the best things are discovered along the way. Rated M to be safe...but really more of a T.





	Out of the Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> Gosh - I wrote this fic 10 years ago in 2008, and it was my first full-length fic. Happy fic-a-versary to me, I guess!! Original author's note as follows:
> 
> Author's Note: This was originally written for the Colorful Winter Quote Challenge over at Checkmated back in early 2008. It was my first full-length piece of fan fiction, so forgive me if my take on Ron and Hermione wasn't as solid as in my later work...still, I have a soft spot in my heart for this fic, and I hope you all enjoy.
> 
> Author's Note #2: As part of the challenge, I was meant to use the color crimson as a motif and the quote "Not all those who wander are lost." by J.R.R. Tolkien.
> 
> Disclaimer: Whaddaya know? They're still JK's.

_Plip plip plip plip plip plip plip plip…_

_Pat pat pat pat patta-pat tappa-patta plip plip pliiiip…_

Hermione didn't know how long she'd been staring blankly out the plate glass front window of the restaurant, gazing at the overcast sky and watching the rain gently fall over everything.  _The day certainly matches my mood_ , she thought bitterly. The sky was leeched of all color, and a steady drizzle had crept in over Sydney's harbor along with the patchy fog. The trees on the sidewalk, the row of buildings across the street from the restaurant, and the passing cars all simply seemed drained of liveliness. They were no more than shoddy impostors of their normal selves.

 _This weather is just_ _ **wrong**_. It was early June, and yet all throughout this trip she had needed to wear her heavy coat and scarf. The temperature had been stuck in the neighborhood of three degrees Celsius for days, unusually cold for winter in Australia. She'd cast aside her coat for now, because she was sitting inside the small building as she waited for Ron to come back from the newsstand with the morning paper. But she was still bundled up in a very scritchy, bulky jumper. She hunched her shoulders down as deeply as she could into the pocket of warmth the woolen garment created around her. As she crossed her arms over her chest to avoid shuddering with the chill that seemed to penetrate her completely, the thought sprang to her mind unbidden… _this kind of cold really used to affect Mum._

Caught off guard by the memory, Hermione nearly burst into tears in the middle of the restaurant's small dining room.  _I wish Ron would hurry_. It was early in the morning, in fact the sun was barely up, and they were just about to grab a quick breakfast and scan the day's paper for potentially useful tidbits before setting off for another day of meticulously combing through the small towns around Sydney.

It was another terrible, horrible day.

A terrible, horrible day that was the ninth they had spent in Australia, looking for her parents.

This terrible, horrible day that was the sixth they had spent searching the towns on Sydney's outskirts, after three fruitless days devoted to Sydney proper.

This day that Hermione feared would be the ninth that she and Ron would not come any closer to finding them.

At all.

 

* * *

 

Hermione felt a warm hand touch her shoulder just a moment before a newspaper plopped down next to her plate. Ron sat down beside her and looked at her for a moment, taking her hand in his and giving it a brief squeeze.

"Hey," he murmured.

She quirked the corner of her mouth at him, mustering the barest semblance of a smile. "Hey, yourself," she said as she leaned against his shoulder briefly, and then stretched up to press a kiss to his cheek. "You're chilly."

"Mmm…well, it  _is_  winter here you know. I seem to remember someone who looked remarkably like you explaining to me about reversed hemi-seers or some such nonsense that means the climate's all backwards from what it is at home."

Hermione smiled wanly at his attempt to make her laugh. She just didn't feel like she could raise enough energy to be even slightly cheerful. She knew that Ron had noticed her lack of response. As she reached for the glass of crimson cranberry juice in front of her and pretended to scan the newspaper's headline, she glanced at him out of her peripheral vision. He was looking at her with an expression that was equal parts concern, affection, and fierce protectiveness. It was really sweet – and more than a little sexy – and Hermione was still getting used to the pleasure of seeing so openly how he felt about her.

She turned to him and was about to lean over and give him another kiss, just because she  **could** , when she noticed something sticking out of the folded over section of the newspaper that lay between them. It was shiny, a glossy flyer in deep green with a photo of something orange on it that Hermione couldn't quite make out. She plucked at the corner of it and, pulling it fully out of the paper, scanned it quickly. It read "Jenolan Caves: Magic Happens Here" across the top, and at the bottom, in smaller print, were tour schedules and details about the caves. The orange "something" turned out to be the photo of a massive stalactite formation, hanging in a dark space and lit from below.

"What's this then?"

At the sound of her voice Ron, who had been turned towards the waitress as she finished taking his order for an obscene amount of breakfast, swung back to look at Hermione. His eyes widened when he saw what she had in her hand.

"Oh…that?"

"Yes….this," Hermione waved the flyer a little. "What  _is_  it, Ron?"

"Oh, erm…it's a national park. These caves are meant to be one of the most exciting places near Sydney. D'you mean you of all people didn't know about them?"

"Well, I have heard a  _bit_  about them and I think I read a  _little_  about them a few years ago…oh, stop smirking at me Ron!" She poked him in the bicep and narrowed her eyes at him slightly, saying, "nice try blue eyes. Don't think I'm going to fall for that misdirection bit. I mean, why do  _you_  have  _this_  flyer?"

Ron carefully spread bright strawberry jam over a piece of toast he had nicked from her plate while she wasn't looking, and avoided her eyes as he said, "Well…about that. I've got a bit of a surprise."

 

* * *

 

_SSSssshhhhmmmm…creakadacreakadacreakadacreee…ssssS SSssssshhhnnnn…..zzzsss…kadathumthumthum…SSSsssSSS sssshhhh…_

The Gray Line bus was zipping briskly along the narrow roadway carved into the Australian hillside, and Hermione woke abruptly from a doze she didn't remember falling into. Her forehead was pressed to the cool windowpane of the bus, and she watched guardrails and trees slide by as she tried to get her bearings. The constant susurration of the wheels against the pavement and the occasional thumping as the bus went over a bump mingled with Ron's quiet breathing. She felt his exhalations skim over the side of her neck as he napped beside her. He was leaning on her left shoulder and wrapped around her as much as the awkward bus seats and public decency would allow.

She turned her attention to him for a moment and looked down at his sleeping face. His sweet, dear face. She took advantage of the fact that he was asleep on her shoulder to drop her nose surreptitiously into his hair and inhale. Even though he hadn't caught her, she still blushed. The lovely scent of his hair brought back a vivid memory of the searing way he had kissed her one night just over a month ago. They had spent several late evenings during the week between the final battle and Fred's funeral sitting up together on the sofa in the Burrow's front room, talking about everything and nothing. They had apologized for the times they'd hurt each other in the past, shyly expressed their hopes for the future, and simply enjoyed  _being_  around each other without the pressures of war or the specters of their previous immature misunderstandings hanging over their heads. One night, during a particularly  _memorable_  conversation, Hermione haltingly confessed the third smell Amortentia had held for her in sixth year potions class. The result had been Ron looking at her with a mixture of longing and wonder just before he pinned her to the sofa and initiated their second – rather  _enthusiastic_  – kiss. Hermione remembered how he had nibbled her bottom lip slowly before teasing her tongue with a flicker of his own.  _I think he just about melted my bones with that one._

Sighing contentedly, Hermione shifted a bit and found a more comfortable position. She leaned her head on top of Ron's and dozed off again, the coppery strands at his crown pillowing her cheek.

When she woke again about 40 minutes later, it was because she had a crick in her neck and Ron had moved. In fact, he was awake and as she drifted back to consciousness she became aware that he was humming a tune she didn't recognize as he stared out the window at the countryside they were moving quickly through. It was a beautiful melody, achingly soft and yearning but with a sweetness at the end that made Hermione feel strangely hopeful.

Even more amazing was the fact that Ron actually had a rather good voice.  _Oh, he's no choirboy, but he sounds really…pleasant_ , she was absently stroking a hand through her hair while humming quite softly. Occasionally, he would sing short snatches of words before lapsing back into humming. Hermione didn't want him to stop, so she strained to listen without alerting him to the fact that she'd woken up.

"…When the waves roll higher…mmhmm-hmm-hmm…and your ship at sea is tossed, you must remember—oh remember my darling…mmm….though the storm clouds grow darker…hmmhmm….not all those who wander are lost….mmhmmm-hmmm-hmm…."

As she heard him sing these words, the hopeful feeling in Hermione's heart surged so strongly that it was nearly painful. Though she had no concrete evidence of it, for the first time in days she just  _knew_  things were on the right track.

 

* * *

 

It was utterly still.

Silence and almost complete darkness surrounded Hermione and Ron as they stood on a narrow ledge several hundred feet under the ground. The only thing keeping them from plummeting into the vast underground lake that stretched unknowably far in front of them was a flimsy metal handrail no thicker around than a wand.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? Peaceful really," Hermione said. She adjusted her protective hardhat and shifted her flashlight so that she cast a beam of light along the surface of the water, making it glow an opaque aquamarine.

"Mmm. Makes me think of first year," Ron said thoughtfully.

"What? Why?"

"Well, I keep expecting to see Hagrid step out of the shadows over there and tell us to get into those little boats.  _Firs' years…right this way_!"

Hermione laughed lightly. "That's true. I hadn't thought of that, but you're right." She shone her light on the brochure she had picked up when they arrived, and read from it briefly. "This cavern is called The River Cave and it was discovered in 1903. It was named because the body of water here is called the River Styx…oh! Until 1923 visitors actually  _did_  cross it by boat. Well, how about that! Oh  _Haagriiid_!" she called out playfully.

She turned to Ron with a bright smile on her face and excitement rushing through her in a way that reminded her of when they were at school and she would discover just such an obscure fact. It was the first time her spirits had really brightened in several days.  _And I have him to thank for it._

She was incandescent, her eyes glowing almost as much as the beam from her flashlight.

"Come on," he said, smiling at her and putting his hand gently under her elbow to tug her along. "There's loads more to see before they close the park for the day."

* * *

_Echoechoechoecho…burrrrrubbbbbubububub…hahHAHhahhh ha…buhBUHbuhbuhbuhhbuh…ccawwllll…_

Several hours later, Ron and Hermione were surrounded by the burbling voices of other tourists as they all climbed the rough hewn rock steps and exited the Jubilee Cave, which was the third cavern the couple had visited that day. Unfortunately for Ron, it also had the lowest ceilings of the three and he spent much of the tour of it hunched over. But he had not complained once. Hermione couldn't believe he had thought of this trip. For  _her_. To make  _her_  happy. This day had been perfect. As they emerged on a sloping hillside outside the cave, she turned to him.

"Ron…thank you  _so much_  for this. It was just what I needed."

He bent down quickly and kissed her cheek.

"Anytime. Anything for you."

" _Anything_?"

"Of course. You know it, Hermione."

She gazed up at him for a moment, before blurting out, "Can we stay, then?"

"Stay? You mean here?"

"Yes. Just for tonight. Today has been, well…it's been extraordinary Ron. It's given me back a great deal of hope, and I'm not ready for it to be over just yet."

He paused for a moment and looked down at her, cupping her jaw gently with one hand. "Sure. I think I spotted a hotel when we came into the park. I'll go see if they have any rooms. Do you want to wait here?"

She nodded. He smiled at her and set off down the hill towards the park entrance, where the white bulk of an old hotel loomed above a small grove of trees.

Hermione stood on the top of a small rise in the park grounds. She looked to her left and saw the staggeringly big and beautiful formation of the Carlotta Arch and looked down over the tourists and families making their way back to their cars. She listened to them call out to each other, their happy voices bouncing off the stones of the hillsides and caves and reverberating out into the darkening, cooling winter evening air.

She stood alone up there, watching the sunset, and waiting for Ron to come back from the hotel. Earlier in the day, while they had stopped to have lunch at one of the park's café's, she read in the brochure that this was a popular spot in the park for weddings.  _Hmm…let's not rush Hermione. First things first…like, oh, telling him you love him._  Crossing her arms over her chest – though much more happily than when she made the very same gesture that morning – she sighed and smiled to herself. She shifted her weight back and forth and rocked from side to side, simply enjoying the view.

Suddenly, just as Ron emerged from the doorway of the hotel and raised his hand, waving excitedly to signal his success, she realized she was humming Ron's mystery tune from the bus.

 

* * *

 

Silence again, but for the tumblers of the lock clicking into place.

The door closed behind Ron as Hermione turned to survey their room. They'd just pleasantly chatted and joked their way through a hearty dinner in the hotel restaurant, and the delicious food was combining with their long day of hiking to make them sleepy.

The room was cozy, bright, and cheerful. A small bathroom lay beyond a door to the right, and two large windows with checked curtains overlooked the park grounds. A pair of lamps threw warm light from where they sat on nightstands on either side of the bed.

The one large bed.

The one large, inviting looking bed with a crimson duvet cover and fluffy white pillows.

Though they had been growing steadily closer over the last few weeks since the war's end, there were certain boundaries Ron and Hermione had not yet crossed. Their hotel room in Sydney had had two smaller beds, and the few times that they  _had_  fallen asleep together in one of them, Ron had slept in between the sheets and the duvet. They seemed to have an unspoken agreement between them regarding how slowly – or quickly – their relationship would progress. But one thing Hermione was sure of was that this plush, soft bed was calling to her.  _Perhaps it's time for another progression?_  Before she could take that train of thought further, Ron came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. He crossed his forearms over her collarbones and rested them there lightly, pulling her back against him.

Dropping his head down to nuzzle behind her left ear, he murmured, "What're you thinking?"

_Mmm…if you only knew…_

She cleared her throat and sighed as he dropped a feather light kiss in the crook of her neck. Hermione could sense that their unspoken accord was again at work; she could tell that he was feeling that same pull, that need to be close tonight, to push and perhaps cross their previous boundaries. Even as this made her a little nervous she was also thrilled.

Turning quickly to press a brief kiss on his mouth, she said, "After all that climbing and hiking, I think I need a bit of a bath."

"Want someone to wash your back?" He waggled his eyebrows adorably.

Smiling, she said, "Tempting, but I think I can manage."

"Oh, but you  _are_  tempted are you?"

Hermione threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled him in to her for a long, sweet kiss. "Mmmhmm." But as he started to slide his hands around her waist, she giggled and pulled away before he could reel her in. As she headed for the bathroom, she called over her shoulder, "Why don't you turn down the bed? I promise I won't take too long."

True to her word, a short time later Hermione emerged wrapped in a soft blue terrycloth robe. Her hair was slightly damp and curling around her face a little more than normal, and her cheeks were glowing from the heat of the bathroom. Ron had taken her suggestion about the bed, and it didn't go unnoticed that he had turned back the duvet  **and**  the sheets on both sides.  _Yes, we definitely are thinking along the same lines…_ Ron was sitting in a cozy armchair near one of the windows and paging through one of the maps they'd picked up during their travels. He was wearing a slightly faded Cannons' t-shirt and gray sweatpants… _and he looks delicious_. Just as that thought crossed Hermione's mind, Ron looked up at her; the smile that lit up his face at the sight of her warmed her right down to her toes.

"Oi! Did you leave me any hot water?!"

_So much for toe-warming grins. Prat._

"I wasn't in there  _that_  long, Ron."

"Whatever you say, but if I freeze my bits off in the shower I'm going to exact a suitably gruesome revenge on you."

"Hmm. Just you try."

He grabbed her around the waist and tickled her briefly then, earning him a cascade of giggles and some halfhearted slaps on the shoulder. Finally, chuckling himself, he released her and padded over to the bathroom for his shower. As she heard the muted sound of water spray hitting tile, Hermione glanced briefly over the maps Ron had pulled out. She noted several towns that they had already been to and saw that Ron had circled a few more for them to try when they started again tomorrow. The names blurred together in the soft glow from the lamps…

… _WollongongCamdenIngleburnBowralKiamaOberonLithgowC anberra…Canberra? Hmm…perhaps we should give that a try…_

Deciding that she didn't want to think about it any more tonight, Hermione placed the map back on the arm of the chair and moved towards the side of the bed that was further from the bathroom. Slipping off her robe, she crawled into the bed and pulled up the sheets along with the rich, crimson duvet. The duvet that, she observed sleepily, was the exact shade of the cranberry juice she had drunk this morning.  _What an odd thing to notice_ , she thought to reached over to the knobs on both lamps and dimmed them. Just as she tucked herself back down beneath the duvet, the bathroom door swung open and a freshly showered Ron stepped back into the room.

She took a deep breath to steady herself as he made his way over to the bed. He slid in next to her and turned towards her, reaching out an arm to pull her closer. The instant his palm encountered the bare skin of her torso, she heard him suck in a sharp breath of air.

"Her _mio_ ne…are you naked?!"

"Not quite," she breathed as his hand slipped down her ribcage and traced the waistband of her knickers.

"But almost," he smiled, sliding his fingers oh-so-lightly along the flimsy garment that was the only thing preventing her from being totally bare to him.

"I—" she started, then stopped because of the feeling of his hand caressing the middle of her bare back. His hand was so large that he could just touch each of her shoulder blades with the tips of his pinky and his thumb; his palm was so warm it felt like it was almost burning into her like a brand, and for a moment she lost her train of thought.

She tried again, "I'm not ready to…to…well, to do…well,  _everything_ , Ron…but I thought there were a few…erm... _other_  things we could…" she trailed off, unable to finish the thought aloud but willing him to understand what she meant. Hoping he would see that she drew strength and comfort from this closeness with him; hoping that he could see just how much she cherished him and what was building between them.

Using the warm hand on her back, he pulled her closer still. She looked up into his familiar eyes, which were brimming with an intensity of emotion that she was sure was mirrored in her own. They were quiet for a moment, simply drinking each other in. Then, never taking his eyes from hers, Ron murmured, "I love you, Hermione."

Once, long ago, those same words had accidentally slipped from Ron's mouth. Then, there had still been obstacles between them.  _This, now, is so totally and_ _ **wonderfully**_ _different_ , Hermione thought to herself. She smiled a bigger smile than she ever had in her life, and just before their lips met she whispered, "I love you, Ron."

And she knew, without a doubt, that they understood each other perfectly.

 

* * *

 

_Mmmm…_

A short while later, after some delightful and increasingly heated snogging, Hermione lay on her back with her head nestled into the softness of the pillows. Ron had lost his shirt sometime during the last few minutes, but Hermione's mind was so pleasantly fuzzy that she couldn't quite remember when. At the moment, his mouth was moving slowly down her neck and towards the upper swell of her right breast. Hermione trailed her fingernails as far down his back as she could reach, lightly scratching along his spine. She felt the slight shudder race through him just before he slid his tongue over the peak of her breast.  _Oh!_ She clutched his shoulders reflexively, and when she felt him nibble oh-so-lightly at the sensitive flesh he had just traced with his tongue, she immediately moved her fingers into his hair.  _Where_ _did he learn_ ** _that_** _…ohh, it doesn't_ ** _matter_** _where…_

As he began to move to her other breast, Hermione slipped her right hand down along his side and towards the waistband of his sweatpants. "Ron?" she breathed.

"Mmm?" came the muffled reply.

"Do you…ahh…you have, um, boxers on under here?" She tugged lightly on the sweatpants as she spoke.

 _That_  drew his attention away from what he had been doing. He propped himself up a little bit so that he was gazing down on her as they talked. "Erm, yeah, I do…"

"Because I'm sensing a lack of balance in the clothing situation here," she tugged a little harder and, feeling the sweats start to move a bit, smiled cheekily up at him.

"Are you really now? I find that extremely interesting…"

"Yes, indeed. It's fascinating, in fact."

"Mmm." He leaned down to kiss her softly. "Well, you're a clever witch. What do you suggest we do about it?"

Hermione just giggled as she pushed the sweatpants down over his hips. She stretched up to kiss his neck as he finished wriggling out of them and kicked them out from under the duvet. She reached down and squeezed his boxer-clad arse. "Much better," she stated. He simply laughed and kissed her deeply.

When they broke apart panting a few moments later, Ron propped himself above her again and looked down at her with a serious expression in his eyes. He balanced his weight on his left arm, and Hermione noticed that he had settled his right hand on the curve of her left hip. "Hermione?" he asked, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Yes, Ron?"

"I was wondering if I could try something." He swallowed hard and his expression became even more earnest, though she could feel that the hand on her hip had traveled slightly towards the inside of her upper thigh. "I've, erm, read a bit about this…but if you don't want to, there's no rush—or if you  _did_ want to, but then wanted me to stop, you  _know_  I would. You'd just have to say so."

"Ron…love…I trust you. With my life. And if you're suggesting what I  _think_  you're suggesting, well…I don't think I'll be telling you to stop."

Ron's grin was so big it dazzled Hermione. As his hand slid further over and his fingers finally delved inside her knickers, her eyes fluttered shut. She thought that she heard him whisper, "brilliant" just before he caught her earlobe gently between his teeth.  _Brilliant indeed…_

And that was the last clear thought Hermione had for quite some time.

 

* * *

 

"Where did you learn how to do that? You said you'd read about it?"

It was now much later, and Hermione and Ron were lying on their sides facing each other, the crimson duvet creating a soft warm cocoon around them. After Ron's voyage beneath her knickers with his hands and lips had succeeded in driving her wild, she had responded in kind. She had wanted to put a bit of her own research into action, as it were. The result was that they were sated, happy, and exhausted. They had cuddled together tiredly, and were chatting while they waited for sleep to claim them for the night.

"Oh…erm…yeah. I hope you don't smack me when I tell you."

"I asked, didn't I?"

"Right. Yeah. Well, see…the twins gave me this book at the end of sixth year. It was a belated birthday present, they said."

"And this book, it taught you about…that?"

"That was just a part of it. It was called  _Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches_ , and really it covered all sorts of useful things about understanding women. Eleven of the chapters were perfectly…uh, respectful. But chapter twelve on the other hand…well let's just say if chapters one to eleven were about theory, chapter twelve was more about…erm,  _practical applications_."

"Now, why would I smack you for reading what is  _obviously_  a worthwhile book? Especially when you seem to have paid such close attention to it."

He shrugged and smiled. "I tried to memorize it, actually. The whole book, not just chapter twelve."

The corner of her mouth turned up in an answering grin. She leaned closer and whispered, "Did you know there's a companion book called  _Ten Sure-Fire Ways to Enchant Wizards_?"

"You're kidding me."

She gave him a look. "Would I kid about a book?"

"Not likely. Is that where you learned to…erm…"

"Chapter eight."

They laughed together and he pulled her closer to him.

"I wonder why there are only ten ways to enchant wizards though."

"Isn't it obvious? Witches are clearly more complicated," she said, eyes twinkling.

Ron refused to take the bait she had offered, and instead looked straight into her eyes, saying sincerely, "The best ones are, anyway."

Hermione blushed under the weight of his appreciative gaze, then leaned forward and tucked her head beneath his chin.

After a few moments of silence, the cheery mood seemed to dissipate slightly. Suddenly, Hermione blurted out, "I miss them, Ron. So much."

"I know you do, love," he murmured, holding her to him and stroking his hand through her hair.

"What if we never find them? It's been a  _year_  without seeing them and already I can't stand it. I could barely stand doing it in the first place!"

"You did what you had to do. You knew we had to go with Harry and you also knew you couldn't keep them safe any other way. Hermione, I don't know why we haven't found them yet, but we will keep looking for as long as it takes. I promise you, we'll find them."

"I just feel so frustrated. I haven't felt this way since I was about four years old."

"What happened when you were four to make you feel like this?"

She sighed and snuggled closer to his chest, pressing a quick kiss above his heart before beginning to speak. "I had been really sick that year. Just after my fourth birthday I came down with chicken pox—"

"Is that anything like dragon pox?"

"Sort of. Except you just get red itchy spots all over…you don't also turn green."

"Ah. D'you know that Charlie actually knew someone who contracted such a bad case of dragon pox they breathed fire?"

"I didn't know that was possible…um, where was I? Okay, so I'd had chicken pox for the two weeks just after my fourth birthday and I was miserable, and itchy, and when I looked in the mirror all I saw were red spots. In fact, I remember standing in front of a mirror while my mum brushed my hair and looking at all the spots on my skin. I was wearing this turtleneck that was white with little red flowers and I vividly remember thinking that my skin matched my shirt. It was awful."

"It sounds it. M'sorry, love."

"Thanks…but it got worse. Just after I'd gotten over the chicken pox it seemed like I was sick again. Bronchitis…a really nasty bout with it that lasted through Halloween. The final straw came at Christmas when I did what I now know was my first accidental magic, though at the time it just frightened and confused my parents."

"You've never told me this story before. What did you do?"

"Well, I had finally been feeling a bit better a few weeks before Christmas, but I was still really run down and tired. I couldn't keep much down while I was sick so I'd developed these cravings for certain foods that I couldn't eat till I got better. Well, I'd always loved cranberry jelly anyway, and being sick had made me want it all the more. That Christmas, when my mum was in the kitchen working on the rest of the holiday dinner and my dad was trying to water our Christmas tree I wandered into the dining room. Mum had already begun setting out the dinner, and we were expecting our guests any minute. I saw this gigantic bowl of cranberry jelly in the middle of the table and decided I had to have it. I wanted to just dive into the whole thing."

"And yet you are appalled by my eating habits?"

"Hey! I was four!"

"Kidding, love. Go on."

"No matter what I did, I couldn't reach the bowl. I tried hopping and grabbing at it, standing on tiptoe, even shoving a chair closer so I could kneel on it. Nothing worked. I had been so sick for so many months, and all I wanted was that cranberry jelly. It looked so good sitting there, the beautiful crimson color tempting me ….I knew that just having a taste would make me feel better…and I was  _so frustrated_  that I couldn't reach it. Just when I thought I couldn't get more upset about the whole thing, I was drenched in sticky cranberry jelly. My magic had taken over and a geyser of the stuff had risen from the bowl and sprayed itself around the dining room. I was covered in it, but so was all the furniture and everything else in the room."

"What happened after that?"

"My mum came in with the bread basket and saw me sitting there on a chair, completely covered in crimson goo and munching on a lump of cranberry jelly that had landed on the table right in front of me. She shrieked, dropped the bread basket and hustled me out of the room and into the tub. I don't really remember much about what happened after that…but I do remember that I hated being four for the rest of the year. Anytime I think about that age, I just feel tense and awful…like a twisting, burning feeling inside me. It's the lingering ache of that frustration. But this…this not being able to find them when they _should_  have stayed put in Sydney…I mean, that's where I sent them, you know…this just makes me feel about a hundred times worse than when I was four."

They were silent for a while, and then Ron asked, "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

She turned her face upwards and looked him in the eyes, saying earnestly, "Oh, Ron…you've done so much for me already. And today has just been the  _best_ thing from start to finish. I can't thank you enough."

"I said it before…I'd do anything for you, you know that."

"I do know. And that goes both ways, you know."

"I know," he said and leaned down to kiss the center of her forehead. "But you're sure there's nothing else I can do now?"

Suddenly, Hermione had a flash of an idea. "Well, actually, since you asked…would you sing me to sleep?"

"What? Erm…Hermione, I don't really sing…"

"Well then what do you call what you were doing on the bus this morning?"

"You heard that?"

"Just a bit of it. You didn't sound half bad, you know."

Ron blushed just a bit, but Hermione thought he looked distinctly pleased at her compliment. "What was that song?" she asked. "It was lovely."

"Oh…that was just something mum used to sing when I was really little. I don't even remember what it was called, but dad used to have to work really late a lot and there'd be these nights when mum would be home alone with all of us. After she'd gotten us tucked in, she used to come check in on us now and again while she waited up for dad, and sometimes I'd be awake and I'd hear her humming that song."

Hermione could picture Molly moving from one room of the Burrow to another in the middle of the night, watching over the children and waiting for Arthur. The image was so bittersweet it almost brought tears to her eyes. "Would you sing it for me?"

"I don't remember all the words…"

"That's okay…I just like the way it sounds when you sing it. Besides, you said you'd do  _anything_."

"Okay then…here goes."

Ron took a breath and then began to softly sing the music Hermione had heard that morning on the bus. As he sang, he continued to stroke his hand up and down her back, and before long the warmth and rhythm of his hand and the sweetness of the melody combined to lull Hermione into a deep sleep.

 

* * *

 

Hermione dreamed fitfully, images floating through her mind…crossing and overlapping…colliding with one another until they created a garish collage.

_…She was four and saw the red chicken pox spots and felt her skin wriggling and itching…she squirmed involuntarily and then…_

_…A six year old version of herself was sitting on the settee in the living room of their home. Her dad was sitting there with her and holding a globe. He was quizzing her on world capitals…it was a game Hermione had loved as a little girl…her dad spun the globe and then stopped it._

_"What's this one? The capital of Canada?"_

_"Ottawa!" The answer came quickly…Hermione was good at this. And she knew it, even at the age of six._

_He spun again. He stopped the globe again in a random place._

_"How about the capital of France?"_

_Hermione just looked at him as if he should know better, which made her dad chuckle. "Paris, Daddy."_

_"Of course…" He slid his finger up to another country without spinning the globe this time. "What about the capital of Finland?"_

_This one caused little Hermione's brow to wrinkle in thought for a few moments before she hesitantly said, "Helsinki?"_

_"Very good! Let's do one more…" Hermione's father gave the globe one more swift spin, letting it twirl for quite some time before stopping it. "Ah, the capital of Australia?"_

_Hermione knew this one right away. "Cranberra!" She said gleefully, and was about to clap her hands in delight when she heard her father laugh gently._

_"Not quite, sweetheart._ _**Can** _ _berra. You_ **_do_ ** _love cranberries though…you must have them on the brain," he said, putting the globe down and gathering Hermione into a hug. They laughed together for a moment, Hermione's six year old giggle pouring forth as her father squeezed her and said, "My little Cranberra,"…and then…_

_…She was four again…fountains of cranberry jelly were shooting everywhere. Hermione ducked and hid under the table as it rained all over the dining room, but she was already covered in it. All she had wanted was the pretty bowl of jelly on the table…she hadn't had any in so long…when the splatting noises stopped, she crawled out and sat on a chair, happy to find a nice glob of cranberries right near her…her mum screeched in shock, and then…_

_…She was in the darkness, but it was okay…Ron was nearby and it was all_ _**okay** _ _…they were joking about Hagrid and she was happy, though she knew she'd been sad before…and oh, how she loved him…she wanted to tell him…and then…_

_…It was only a year ago…oh God it was_ _**already** _ _a year ago…Hermione's wand flicked efficiently over her parents and she muttered the words that would take them far away from everything they knew…the words that would make them forget themselves…hoping she was doing the right thing…Australia – Sydney – would be a good place…half a world away was the best she could do to keep them safe…and then…_

_…The hotel room was warm and bright…soft lamplight, fresh sheets, alluring bed, and there was Ron's map and list…places they'd need to go, places they'd tried and come up empty…Cranberra…no,_ _**Can** _ _berra…CanberraCanberraCanberraCanberraCanberra…_

_and then…_

She jolted awake, gasping. The light in the room was dim. It was still early, just past dawn. Hermione could see the deep crimson color of the duvet right in front of her eyes; somehow she must have burrowed completely underneath it in her sleep. Ron slept on behind her, curled around her with a strong arm wrapped around her waist. She felt puffs of warm air moving the hairs on her neck as he exhaled.

Something was tickling the edge of her consciousness. Some idea that had come to her in her dreams. It was what had caused her to wake up so abruptly, and she just  _knew_  that she had to latch onto it before it disappeared. She felt that she had figured out the last piece of the puzzle that she'd been working on for days. Furrowing her brow, she concentrated on the last images of her dream. All of a sudden, she knew. She didn't know how she knew, or why she felt so very certain about it. But she simply  **knew**. They had to go to Canberra. Her parents were there. She could feel it.

"Ron!"

He didn't wake, but simply tightened the arm that was slung around her middle. His thumb twitched reflexively, skimming the curve of her breast and sending goosebumps racing up her arm. But she couldn't let that distract her. She wrapped her fingers around the large hand that was spread out over her stomach and shook his arm a little, while saying his name a bit more urgently.

This earned her a snuffly sound and Ron burrowing his face into her hair. Adorable and lovely and thrilling and sweet as all this was, he needed to wake up  **now**  so they could get going. She tried once more, this time reaching back and smacking him on the arm as she said his name.

"Ron! Wake up, will you?"

"Mmmph…yeah?" He slurred out, his lips just behind her ear. More goosebumps.  _Merlin, get a grip on yourself_ , she thought.

"Ron, you've got to wake up," she said excitedly. "We've got to get back on the road as soon as possible."

"Okay," he said, rolling away from her a bit and stretching. "Hermione, is everything alright? You seem kind of…erm… _intense_."

She rolled towards him so she could see his face when she told him.

"Ron, I know where to find my parents!"

 

* * *

 

The morning sunlight hit Hermione full in the face as she stepped out the front door of the park's hotel. She squinted, but enjoyed the warmth as she waited for Ron to join her. The day was unseasonably warm, and she was able to stand there in her long sleeved t-shirt and jeans, scarf slung around her neck, and not bother with her winter coat at all.  _Was it only yesterday I was so miserable? I can't believe how much things have changed…and so quickly!_

She heard Ron's familiar footsteps behind her, and felt him take her hand in his as he offered her a cranberry muffin wrapped in a napkin. She smiled at him, and took it happily.

"So," he said, as they started to walk towards the bus pickup point, "Canberra."

Hermione inhaled deeply, and squared her shoulders. She couldn't explain why she felt so certain about this. She was never one to believe in Divination or gut feelings, but she just knew that dream had meant something important. And it couldn't be a coincidence that it had helped her to remember playing that game with her father when she was six, and to recall that Canberra had been important to her even then. No, Hermione was sure.

"Canberra," she affirmed.

And they continued walking, their linked hands swinging between them. Hermione looked over at Ron, who was munching his own muffin. She silently thanked the powers-that-be for having seen them through the past year safely, and for  _finally_  bringing them together.

She gazed up at the sun as they walked closer to the buses, and she knew in her heart that all the clouds in her life were lifting at last.

~*~Fin~*~


End file.
